Chickens On The Brain

Daily Prompt: Dust in the Wind.
Have you made your bucket list? Now’s the time — write about the things you want to do and see before you become dust in the wind.

Chickens On The Brain

I don’t have a bucket list. If I did, it would only have one item listed at a time. Right now it would say Chickens. I have chickens on the brain.

I need a little critter to hold and care for, someone to keep me company in the garden. I need a chicken. I need two chickens because one would get lonely.

It’s a seasonal disorder that hits hard in spring when the local nursery has chicks and ducks and bunnies for sale. Yesterday I went to see them. The chicks looked like they’d been tie-dyed in deep shades of rose and blue and emerald green. When they outgrow the dye they’ll be white leghorns. They peeped and scurried in their galvanized steel tub, warmed by a heat lamp. The blue one looked me in the eye. I would’ve chosen the blue one, but I wasn’t ready to buy yet.

I’ve been doing my research, learning about little chick needs and coops and breeds and maintenance. I’ve been testing the waters with Mr. Raven, who isn’t adamantly opposed to the idea. He’s adamant about not having a dog, but he knows I want a pet and at least chickens don’t crap on your carpet or shed all over your sofa. At least chickens give eggs and eat bugs and make good compost.

He seems resigned. He offered a galvanized tub for the chicks and a light to keep them warm and a screen for the top. We talked about coop placement and design.

I’m so excited! It’s going to be fun. I can’t wait to pick up some chicks! I’ll go look at the ag store tomorrow.

I think I’m going to name one Betty.

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For many years I have suffered from debilitating bloglessness, only writing in my head, while everyone else posted and shared with ease. Previous attempts at recovery have failed, my secret journals edited to death, pages torn out, crumpled and trashed.
I will not succumb to this embarassing condition. I will continue to struggle against the rampant backspacing and endless blank staring. I refuse to relapse into the void that is bloglessness. I can do it. I am doing it. I am Overcoming Bloglessness.

Wild & unruly. They were red. I got them a pet store after Easter & I think they must have been rejects from a feed store. We tried to let them free-range a bit & they’d head right for the tomato patch. And they’d love to fly up on the clothes line. Seems like I had a dozen. Then when we decided we might as well eat them, they were tough. I don’t know what the problem was.

Sorry about being so negative. A friend of mine has been raising chickens for years & has really good luck. Sometimes she orders a specific breed, but usually she takes the ones a school teacher friend’s class has hatched out. Some of hers she’s had for years & is quite attached to. I’m guessing the key is in knowing the breed.

These photos are awesome. I thought the first one might actually jump out of the screen. Did you know in Trafalgar Square in London there is a sculpture of a gain blue rooster? Your dyed little chicks made me think of it.

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For many years I have suffered from debilitating bloglessness, only writing in my head, while everyone else posted and shared with ease. Previous attempts at recovery have failed, my secret journals edited to death, pages torn out, crumpled and trashed.
I will not succumb to this embarassing condition. I will continue to struggle against the rampant backspacing and endless blank staring. I refuse to relapse into the void that is bloglessness. I can do it. I am doing it. I am Overcoming Bloglessness.